


Of Groves and Crabapples

by fancywaffles



Series: An Azure Dawn [10]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Route, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23147671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancywaffles/pseuds/fancywaffles
Summary: Felix learned to cope by shutting everything out, but he always finds it difficult to do when he's around Sylvain.(or two emotionally repressed idiots find different ways to avoid emotions over the course of their long friendship/romance)... another companion piece of Barnacle, but can be read without.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: An Azure Dawn [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654411
Comments: 10
Kudos: 189





	Of Groves and Crabapples

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a thing that was a couple of scenes before a dirtier scene which no longer fits (so expect PWP when i can figure out how to stretch that) and then my brain ate itself and now its this which is still incredibly self indulgent so enjoy

Felix tried to stand on his toes so he could see over Glenn’s shoulder, but his brother shoved him back down.  
  
“I wanna see,” he hissed.

“Too bad,” Glenn hissed back.

“Boys,” their father said, leveling a look at the both of them. “I expect you behave yourself this time.”

“We always behave ourselves,” Glenn said, leaning his arm on Felix’s head. “I don’t know what you mean, Father.”

Felix tried punching him in the side but he wasn’t strong enough yet to get out of Glenn’s stupid grip. “Get off me.”

Their father let out an incredibly loud sigh and shook his head, turning from both of them to greet Margrave Gautier and the King. Once they were in view enough for Felix to see them, Glenn dropped his arm and fussed Felix’s hair back into place.

They both bowed and the King spent a few minutes asking Glenn about his training and which weapon he was favoring. Felix tried looking around both of them, but they both blocked his view.

“I suppose that’s enough interrogation,” King Lambert said, moving out of the way so Felix could see. Dimitri was there, talking to Sylvain. He didn’t see Ingrid, but he figured Glenn would go find and bug her which was good, because it meant he’d leave them alone.

“Don’t break any more arms,” the King ordered at Glenn and Felix. It didn’t really make sense, until he noticed that Sylvain had his arm wrapped up and in a sling.

“That boy is so clumsy,” the Margrave said, shaking his head.

Their father turned back to give them a warning look over his shoulder and Glenn made a really stupid fake innocent face, that got their father to do the thing where he pretended to be annoyed, but was really trying not to smile and encourage it. Felix bounced on his heels, but Glenn grabbed his shoulder and said, “Wait.”

The King passed by Dimitri and Sylvain and knocked his knuckles lightly against his son’s face with a grin, before heading into the castle proper. The Margrave and their father followed. Glenn kept his grip on Felix’s shoulder until they were completely gone and Felix took off immediately towards his friends.

“What happened?” he asked Sylvain.

“Fell off my horse on the way here,” he said and shrugged his uninjured shoulder.

“The Margrave said you rode off into the woods,” Dimitri said, frowning.

“So I guess I rode off into the woods and _then_ fell off my horse,” Sylvain said back.

No one was able to get another word in, because Glenn had caught up. Felix’s brother wrapped his arm around Dimitri, shoving him practically into his armpit and rubbed his knuckles into his hair, messing it up. “Your Highness,” he said, boredly, as Dimitri laughed and protested, trying to squirm out of it.

“Knock it off!” Felix said, shoving at him.

Glenn laughed at him and finally let Dimitri go before nodding a greeting to Sylvain. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s healing,” Sylvain said with another shrug.

Glenn looked at all of them and gestured with his fingers to his eyes and then to each of them. “Don’t do anything stupid. Or at least not stupid enough that I get in trouble for not keeping you out of it.”

“Where are you going?” Felix asked.

“Why do you need to know?” Glenn asked back. Felix hated when he did that.

“ _Glenn_!”

Glenn acted like Felix was asking him to give him a million gold pieces with how putout he looked about answering a simple question. “Fine, don’t cry about it. Gustave said I could observe the knights next time I was here… so I’m going to go observe the knights.”

He turned towards Dimitri and bowed deeply, “Your Highness,” he said in such a ridiculous voice that both Dimitri and Sylvain laughed.

“I’ll come get you before dark,” Glenn promised them and followed the same path their fathers had taken.

“Are we waiting for Ingrid?” Sylvain asked, once Glenn was out of sight.

Dimitri shook his head. “She’s not coming until tomorrow.”

Sylvain grinned. “You know that means no one is going to yell at us if we go to the grove.”

Dimitri frowned at him. “Your arm’s broken.”

“I don’t walk with my arm,” Sylvain replied.

“Come on, Dimitri,” Felix said, grabbing his friend’s hand and tugging. It wouldn’t be as much fun if they weren’t all going.

Dimitri smiled at him and then nodded. “Okay.”

That was all they needed to immediately break out into a sprint towards the trees surrounding the castle exterior. The grove of crabapple trees was close enough by and they wouldn’t get yelled at as much like when they went to the orchards and took fruit, which was _not_ stealing, because Dimitri owned the whole thing.

They had to cross over the pebbled creek though, which was always hard, especially in the spring when the water was really flowing. Dimitri walked first and then held his hand out for Felix, who grabbed it and then walked across. Sylvain looked at both of them and at the creek, frowning.

“Do you need help?” Dimitri asked. Before Felix could even try to reach his free hand out for Sylvain’s, Sylvain walked back a little bit and then took a running leap, so he cleared the creek completely, landing on his knee.

“Ow,” he said, but then laughed and pushed himself up to standing with his good arm.

“You could’ve taken my hand,” Felix said.

Sylvain shook his head. “Been cooped up all day at the healers, needed to do something for myself.” Then Sylvain grinned at them and said, “Loser eats a crabapple!” and ran towards the grove.

Dimitri made off after him, still holding Felix’s hand and pulling him along. They ran fast, because neither of them wanted to eat it, but even with a broken arm, Sylvain was taller and older than them so he made it to the grove first.

“You can’t both lose,” he said, reaching up to one of the lower branches and grabbing one of the inedible fruits.

“No one lost,” Dimitri suggested.

Sylvain threw the crab apple at him and Dimitri let go of Felix’s hand and caught it.

“Nice one,” Sylvain said, approvingly and then pulled down another one and threw it at Felix.

They quickly forgot about threats to eat them and spent the next hour throwing them at each other, either to catch or dodge, laughing when they’d hit. It was hard work and there weren’t any actual apples to eat so they eventually collapsed onto the grass next to each other. Dimitri’s head was by Felix, but his feet were closer to Sylvain who shoved them away from his face with his good hand.

Dimitri pulled his legs in so he was lying back but his knees were up. “Did you really fall off your horse?” he asked.

“Yep,” Sylvain said.

“But you’re so good at riding,” Dimitri said.

“Not today, I wasn’t,” Sylvain said and shifted slightly, bumping up against Felix with his shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” Felix asked.

“Nah,” Sylvain said. “The mage gave me whiskey before she set it.”

Dimitri and Felix were both impressed, but they didn’t want to admit it, so they shared a look and then Felix said, “I drink wine sometimes.”

“We all do,” Sylvain laughed, and nudged him again intentionally. He was kinda warm next to Felix. It was nice since the grass was cold. He wondered if Sylvain was always warm because Gautier was colder, but felt like he’d get made fun of if he asked.

“Cornelia never gives me whiskey,” Dimitri said, sounding hurt.

“Maybe she likes me more than you,” Sylvain said. “I’m a catch, after all, the Margrave has big plans.”

Felix always thought it was so weird how he called his father by his title, but he didn’t say anything, because something uncomfortable twisted in his stomach. “Are you going to get engaged, like Glenn?” he asked, quietly.

“I hope not,” Sylvain said. “Ingrid’s pretty, but she’s such a nag.”

“I think he means to someone not Ingrid,” Dimitri said.

“Like Cornelia?” Sylvain asked, being stupid on purpose.

“She’s so old,” Dimitri said, crinkling his nose.

Sylvain sighed. “Yeah, but that won’t matter when I’m old too.”

“You shouldn’t marry Cornelia,” Felix said and then wasn’t sure why he said it.

Dimitri saved him by agreeing. “Yeah, Sylvain that’s gross.”

“Sorry we can’t all have secret city girlfriends,” Sylvain said, rolling his eyes.

Dimitri turned red. Felix sat up and tried to ignore how he was starting to feel upset about being left out. “What girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Dimitri said, covering his face. “I shouldn’t have told you anything.”

“You didn’t tell me, I saw you,” Sylvain said. “And then you admitted it.” He looked over at Felix and seemed to get Felix felt left out, so he filled him in. “Dimitri met a cute girl and keeps skipping lessons to go hang out with her.”

“Only some of them,” Dimitri said, dropping his hands. His face was still red. “And it’s not a big deal. I make friends with other children in the city all the time.”

“Well, then, can we meet her?” Sylvain asked.

Dimitri looked at him suspiciously and then said, “No.”

Felix laughed and Sylvain turned towards him and then swung his legs around to flatten him into the ground. “Not fair!” Felix said. “I can’t fight back because your arm is broken!”

“Too honorable,” Sylvain said, pressing his legs down into Felix’s chest and scooting so he was practically sitting on him. “It’ll be your downfall, Fraldarius.”

Felix squirmed underneath the weight and tried pushing back, but it didn’t bother him that much. It was kind of warm, like when they all fell asleep huddled together by the fire in the winter, when their fathers would let them stay up late.

“You’re _older_ than us, you’re supposed to be mature!” Dimitri said, trying to help Felix, but Sylvain’s legs kept pressing down and then his boots shoved at Dimitri, trying to knock him over too, all while keeping his back on the ground and his arm lifted.

Felix and Dimitri finally took one leg each and shoved Sylvain off, who was laughing so hard he was wheezing, but then winced and held his bad arm.

“Do you need more whiskey?” Dimitri said, completely serious.

“It tasted weird,” Sylvain admitted, forcing a smile to say he was okay. “Kinda like burning and then warm.”

“Cool,” Felix said.

Sylvain grinned at him and lifted himself up to sitting. “I can break my other arm and get you some?” he offered.

“Don’t!” Dimitri said, like he thought he was serious.

Felix stared at Sylvain and then looked away from him, feeling a little weird, like burning and then warm. “Nah,” he said and pushed himself up to standing. “It’s gonna be dark soon,” he said pointing at the sky.

Sylvain’s smile slipped off his face. “Can’t we stay out here for a little longer?”

“I don’t want to get Glenn in trouble,” Dimitri said.

“He’s never really in trouble,” Sylvain said. He looked serious all of a sudden. He kicked his feet out on the ground and then got up anyway. “Yeah okay.”

They walked silently after that back to the creek, Dimitri went first again and held his hand out for Felix to help him across. Felix looked back at Sylvain and held his other hand out. “Don’t jump,” he said.

Sylvain stopped looking serious and smiled at him and gave a fake sigh. “Worrywart,” he said, but he took Felix’s hand with his good one. It was warm too. Felix helped him across.

“Are you going to stop riding?” Felix asked him. He was still holding both of their hands as they walked.

“No,” Sylvain said. “I love my horse. It’s not her fault that Mi—that I wasn’t paying attention.”

Dimitri looked at Felix, because he’d heard it too, but neither of them knew what to say, so Felix just squeezed Sylvain’s hand and Sylvain smiled again.

“So are you going to introduce your girlfriend to your father?” Sylvain asked Dimitri.

“Argh!” Dimitri said. “This is why no one tells you anything!”

“You can’t get married without a proper introduction,” Sylvain said, pretending to be serious.

Felix tried really hard not to laugh, because that wouldn’t have been fair to Dimitri, but he was pretty sure he was doing a bad job at it.

“She’s my _friend_ ,” Dimitri said and dropped Felix’s hand. “You’re both being weird.”

“Ah,” Sylvain said to Felix. “You’re weird too, I’ve infected you,” he tugged on Felix’s hand and grinned at him. “Now everyone will think you’re a screw up too.”

“Will not,” Felix said, frowning at him.

“Don’t take everything so seriously, Felix,” Sylvain said and nudged him, before dropping his hand and walking after Dimitri, making suggestions about how to woo his girlfriend.

Felix’s hand was still warm and his heart felt a little like when he’d run too far. He swallowed and then ran to catch up.

* * *

It had been three days since Sylvain’s brother died. Since the relic he’d stolen turned him into a monstrous beast and Sylvain had to help take him down. Felix felt no sympathy for Miklan. He was a little disgusted that Sylvain did, but it was like it was now, three days later, Sylvain never let anything below surface level.

Felix hated Miklan. He figured the beast he turned into was his outside matching his in. That didn’t stop him from observing Sylvain, over the course of three days, doing nothing but laughing loudly at the dining hall, flirting with every girl that walked past him, and avoiding anyone who tried to offer him condolences.

It had been three days and Felix suspected it’d also been that long since Sylvain had really slept. Felix heard him pacing the halls between their rooms, wearing down a path in the stone. He only went back to his room if the boar came out and pretended to be concerned.

Felix couldn’t stand the idea of another person drowning themselves in the past with the dead, rather than moving forward. He didn’t want to lose Sylvain too.

The third day after they’d killed his brother, Felix watched Sylvain in the dining hall, laughing with a couple of girls, one arm slung over each. He felt and then saw Ingrid sit down next to him, a plate of meat piled higher than his own.

“He’s not doing well is he?” she asked, but didn’t need the answer. “I tried talking to him but it didn’t…”

“He never wanted to talk about it before,” Felix said. He ignored the way Ingrid smiled at him like they were commiserating. Maybe they were.

“Honestly,” Ingrid said, “I don’t know what to say even if he did let me talk to him. It isn’t like Glenn. Miklan was a monster.”

“Literally,” Felix agreed.

He tried not to wallow in memories like the boar prince did, but he couldn’t help recalling after Sylvain came back from outside in the dead of winter, half-frozen and blue, with another broken arm and frostbitten fingers, and insisting he’d gotten lost. He remembered how later Glenn had grabbed Felix’s shoulder turned him until he looked at him and made him swear to never be alone with Sylvain’s brother.

“He’s not going to to talk about it,” Felix said. Sylvain never did. Surface level with everything.

Ingrid sighed, nodded, and started eating. She always sounded like an animal mauling her food when she ate meat. Felix, despite everything, tried not to smile at the familiarity.

It wasn’t hard, smiling didn’t really come easily anymore. He frowned instead and continued to watch Sylvain flirt. Their eyes met across the dining hall and Sylvain had the nerve to wink at him.

“I’m going to train,” Felix said. “You can suck the marrow out of my food if you’re still hungry.”

“Very funny,” Ingrid said, mouth still a little full, but he saw her slide his plate towards her to see if there was anything left.

Felix made his way towards the training yard. He was frustrated that his brain kept reminding him of Glenn. Glenn wasn’t anything like Miklan. If he thought about his brother every time someone else’s brother died, he’d obsess like the boar and turn rabid.

Thinking about Sylvain instead wasn’t much better. The surface way he was ignoring everything and putting on a happy face, reminded Felix too much of when what was left of Dimitri came back. Between him and his father and all the empty words about what noble sacrifices they all gave, Felix was completely alone in his grief. He hadn’t learned how to shove everything inside yet, it all spilled out of him at once, no matter how petty and childish.

Thinking of himself like that, weak, made him angry. Anger was at least an emotion he could focus on and block everything else out. Anger was good fuel for training. Felix practiced the new sword technique he’d observed from Catherine’s bout in the training tournament until the muscles in his arms ached with it and it buried itself into his skin so he could use it reflexively. It was dark by the time he left and quiet in the dormitory by the time he’d cleaned up and headed to his room.

Usually training put Felix in a tired enough state to sleep, but he couldn’t even find himself wiling to get ready for bed. Felix sighed and walked to the end of the hall to Sylvain’s room and knocked on the door.

There was no immediate answer and Felix hated himself for leaning in a little to check if there was any giggling that meant Sylvain was otherwise occupied. There wasn’t, but he could hear Sylvain pacing in his room.

He knocked again, then remembered Sylvain was never smart enough to lock the door and opened it. It swung open and Sylvain raised his eyebrows at him.

“Knocking doesn’t give you blanket permission, Felix,” Sylvain said. “What if I’d had company?”

“Come on,” Felix said, gesturing with his head. “You can pace outside.”

“You’re not going to ask me to share my feelings are you?” Sylvain asked with an easy laugh. Felix raised his eyebrows back at him and Sylvain rubbed his neck and then sighed. “All right, should’ve figured there’d be no worries on that front.”

He followed Felix outside. The monastery was quiet this time of night. There were still people, usually the staff cleaning up for the night, now that all the students and professors were in for the evening, but it was mostly empty.

“I’m fine,” Sylvain said as they walked the grounds. “I am great actually. Veronika, the cute blonde from that street cart with the sugary things you hate in town, is totally warming up to me.”

“Another check for your list,” Felix said, dryly.

Sylvain, encouraged, laughed. He let out a relieved breath and stretched his arms out. “I am so glad you’re not Dimitri or Ingrid. Even the Professor tried to check on me. It’s … fine. I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

Felix didn’t answer him. They both knew why. “Are you relieved or upset that they sent the Lance of Ruin back?”

Sylvain snorted. “Relieved, I guess. If they’d let me keep it, then it would mean my father found me worthy and everyone would start expecting things from me.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Felix said, agreeing, drawing another easy laugh from Sylvain.

They walked in silence for a bit. Felix listened to Sylvain’s breathing next to him. They weren’t close enough to touch, but close enough that he could feel the heat emanating off him every time his arm swung past Felix’s own.

“Are you taking me to the training grounds?” Sylvain finally asked, suspiciously.

“Yes,” Felix said.

“Seriously?” Sylvain said. “This is your idea of having a touchy feely talk isn’t it?”

“No,” Felix said. “You haven’t slept in three days.”

Sylvain was silent. Then, “How does sparring help with that?”

“If you’d ever done it right, you’d know,” Felix retorted. He regretted it, it was too sharp, but Sylvain snorted, as if that normalized everything.

“Can we use lances so I don’t get my ass kicked?” Sylvain asked.

“You can still get your ass kicked,” Felix replied and this time Sylvain’s laugh was a little choked and more real.

Sylvain took his jacket off and grabbed one of the training lances before throwing it to Felix who caught it easily, and then he grabbed his own. “Tell me the truth,” Sylvain said. “How many times have you already been here today?”

“Twice,” Felix lied, but it was close enough to the real number that Sylvain believed him.

Sylvain spun the lance in his hand easily, he was good with it, if he’d put the effort in, he’d be great. He had been easy with bows, axes, and swords when they’d first been taught, but he’d never followed through.

Felix preferred swords, but he was passable at a lance, because he’d grown up in Faerghus and it was traditional to come out of the womb holding one. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t planning on engaging Sylvain so much as tiring him out.

“You seen the cute little one leading the Black Eagles?” Sylvain asked, feinting slightly and then coming at Felix too easy not to dodge.

“The Imperial Princess?” Felix cocked an eyebrow at him and swung his own lance in an arc high enough that Sylvain had to actually give some effort in blocking it.

“Yeah, her,” Sylvain said, laughing, but also narrowing his eyes at Felix’s lance and starting to take it seriously.

“Yes,” Felix said, dodging the next rush Sylvain took and pressing back to engage him again so he’d have to sprint to get any sort of footing in. “I have seen the other house leader, at the school, where we go, who is going to be leading the Empire.”

“Yeah,” Sylvain said, straining a little bit to sound relaxed as he used his height and strength to really snap the lance towards Felix’s, the sound cracked and echoed in the training yard. “But have you seen her with an axe, bigger than she is, fighting? It’s… _scary_ but also hot.”

Felix resisted the urge to roll his eyes and came at Sylvain a little more aggressively with the next attack. Sylvain wasn’t practiced enough to dodge out of the way, but he was able to block it and stabilized his footing so he could push his weight into the block and drive Felix back.

“I think that’s how I want to go,” Sylvain said. “A beautiful woman. A very large axe.”

Felix brought his lance swiftly around and aggressively tried to knock the wind out of Sylvain for even _joking_ about that. Sylvain laughed at him, but disengaged, readjusted his grip and was better prepared for the next lunge, even managing to brush the side of Felix’s arm with his lance as he thrust it forward.

“Will you be upset when I go?” Sylvain asked, his smile mirthless. “Mourn for the poor Gautier heir. Death of the line, they’ll say. Or my father will marry someone younger and pop out some more—” Sylvain didn’t get to finish because Felix knocked the lance out of his hand with his own which he threw down in favor of shoving him.

“It’s not _your fault_ , your brother was an asshole,” Felix snapped at him, shoving him again.

Sylvain’s face shifted into something Felix hadn’t seen before and then he shoved Felix back. Even as kids they didn’t really fight. Sylvain always said he was too old to participate when Dimitri and Felix would roll around, or Ingrid would try and trip them both up in mock spars. So Felix was a little surprised at the intensity of Sylvain’s brawl. The surprise was overwhelmed by the adrenaline that filled Felix during a fight. A good fight.

Sylvain was bigger than him and probably stronger, but Felix actually kept up on brawling training, so he was able to keep Sylvain from shoving his entire weight onto him by kneeing him in the gut. That made Sylvain punch up at him, which Felix wasn’t expecting enough to entirely dodge and it landed halfway on his jaw, making his teeth rattle in his head.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Sylvain said. “Sorry, Felix — shit.”

“Why?” Felix asked, rubbing his sore face. “That was a fair hit.”

“No that’s not— _fuck_ ,” Sylvain moved away from him strode towards the wall and Felix thought he was going to start pacing again until he punched it hard enough to make his knuckles bleed.

Ingrid would’ve been better with words, even what was pretending to be Dimitri would’ve thought of something flowery and comforting, so Sylvain could feel better.

Felix could only stare at the back of him and feel that knot in his chest tighten.

After a few moments of Sylvain’s heavy breathing, it seemed like he might punch the wall again, but instead he leaned his head against it and slumped forward. “This sucks.”

Felix grabbed a bandage from the kits for patching up and came over to Sylvain, reaching for his hand. “You punched the wall harder than me,” he said.

Sylvain snorted and let Felix cover his hand with healing salve and a bandage. When Felix was done he could see Sylvain was looking at him, the guilt practically dripping off his face. “I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t mean to…”

“You’re not Miklan,” Felix said, now that he understood. “We were sparring. _Ingrid_ has hit me harder.”

“That’s not reassuring, Ingrid can hit pretty hard, I know.”

Felix sighed, holding onto Sylvain’s hand a second longer than he should have before letting it go. His face felt hot and the room felt crowded. He didn’t know how to say anything reassuring or if talking about it would make Sylvain feel better.

“I thought this would tire you out enough to get some sleep,” Felix said, staring down at the floor with a frown.

“I’m tired, believe me,” Sylvain said. When Felix looked up he was rubbing his face. “Honestly… I don’t want to talk about it, because I don’t know _what_ to talk about. How the hell am I even supposed to feel about any of this? There was nothing I could’ve done,” he scoffed and stared up at the ceiling. “Other than not be born.”

That might’ve made Miklan happy, but it wouldn’t have really been better for Felix. He didn’t say that, but instead turned around to put the salve and extra bandages back.

“I felt worse when Glenn died,” Sylvain said. “And I feel … bad about that, because hell, Glenn wasn’t _my_ brother. I should feel worse.”

Felix closed his eyes. “Glenn…” _No_. Felix tried, but the space where he’d shoved everything down into threatened to topple up again if he opened up with that, so he turned around to face Sylvain. “ _Your_ brother spent his free time thinking of ways to kill you without getting caught.”

Sylvain did look tired. “He had it worse than me. Our parents—”

“Stop it,” Felix said, angry, because that was easier than anything else. “Stop making excuses for that asshole. You want to feel conflicted? Fine. Whatever. That’s on you, because he’s dead and there’s no way for him to do anything anymore.”

Sylvain stared at him, mouth slightly open and then licked his lips. “You really suck at talking to people, you know that, right?”

“I didn’t come here to talk, you said you didn’t want to talk!” Felix snapped.

“I didn’t really want to fight _either_ ,” Sylvain said. “I want to flirt with girls, loaf about enjoying myself, and not think about any of this.”

“Fine,” Felix said, heated.

“Good,” Sylvain replied, crossing his arms. The silent standoff went to Sylvain, because Felix felt… uneasy and guilty and other things he didn’t want to feel so he went to pick the training lances up and put them away, instead of talking. While he did that he heard Sylvain’s boots on the floor and when he glanced back, he’d left.

The knot in Felix’s chest traveled upwards into his throat until it was choking him. He almost punched the wall himself, but swallowed around it and stormed out.

Surprisingly, Sylvain was outside, leaning against the wall waiting for him. “The walk was nice,” he said.

Felix breathed out. “Do… you want to keep going?”

Sylvain nodded and waited while Felix hesitantly walked towards him, before they continued on. They’d walked the entire monastery in mostly silence, until Sylvain suggested walking into town. Everything was quieter there. Shops were closed up and the only people out at this hour were probably looking for or to cause trouble. It didn’t matter.

It was only once they reached the edge where the town opened up into the woods and beyond that they turned back. It was far past curfew by the time they got back, but Sylvain was an expert at this point at sneaking back in and they were back in the dormitories without anyone being the wiser, before either of them knew it.

Felix hadn’t realized he’d walked Sylvain to his door, until they were there.

“Thanks,” Sylvain said. “Sorry, I punched you.”

“No, you’re not,” Felix said.

Sylvain laughed, softly, and sincere. “It’s fifty-fifty.”

Felix’s hand reached out of its own volition and he patted Sylvain’s arm awkwardly. Sylvain raised his eyebrows and really looked like he was about to laugh so Felix turned around, muttering ‘goodnight’ before he saw how red his face had turned.

“Night, Felix,” Sylvain said, before Felix escaped into his own room. His heart was beating wildly against his chest, like he’d trained all night rather than walking at a leisurely pace. Felix shut his eyes and tried to shove that down too and get some sleep.

* * *

The Valley of Torment had undersold its name. Felix had taken down and put up his hair at least five times in the last hour and there was still sweat dripping down his neck. The air was dry and stinging, like opening an oven that had been on for hours. There was no moisture to any of it except for the sweat they were all leaking out.

Byleth called a water break and the relieved sigh that spread through the group was audible. Felix wanted to get this over with, but he also didn’t think passing out from dehydration in front of his father was a good idea.

He drank from his water-skin, trying to make it last, in case his father was late and they were stuck in this literal hell hole for much longer.

“I don’t think I’d like to make the Goddess angry if this is what happens,” Ashe said, wiping the sweat from his hands onto his loosened jacket.

“I can’t really picture you doing anything to make the Goddess angry,” Ingrid said. She had taken off her gloves and was wetting a cloth to press onto the place on her neck between her armor.

“I wouldn’t purposefully, but you never know.”

Felix moved away so he didn’t have to hear them. Unfortunately the other direction was Byleth trying to get the boar to drink. He was covered in the furs he refused to take off, probably sweating into oblivion. Would serve it right. She finally shoved it at him saying something Felix couldn’t catch and the boar dropped it, walking away, spilling most of the water onto the ground. Byleth went to grab the skin (the spilled water steamed on the ground) and stomped angrily towards Felix.

Except she went past him to yell at something behind him.“Sylvain, put your shirt back on!”

“I’m dying,” Sylvain said and when Felix turned around, he saw Sylvain… shirtless. Half his armor was off and he’d completely removed his undershirt. He was literally glistening from sweat. “Please, Professor, it’s so hot. I’m not made for this.”

“You’re going to get sunburnt,” Mercedes pointed out. She was pressing her water skin against her forehead.

“You’re going to get killed,” Felix said.

“By who?” Sylvain asked, turning towards him. “Your father? We’re meeting up with allies! Why must I suffer because you are all always so paranoid.” He raked a hand through his hair, so sweat drenched it stayed where he touched it.

How the fuck was he making this look good.

“We can’t know there isn’t an attack coming,” Byleth said.

Sylvain gestured around. “To this? Why? No one who isn’t _insane_ would come here.” He eyed her and Felix knew the next thing that was going to come out of his mouth was going to be incredibly stupid. “Be honest, it’s not concern for me, it’s that you’re so distracted by my physique.”

Byleth chucked the water skin she was holding at him and it nailed him right in the bare chest. “I’m going to check the perimeter!” she said and then stomped off.

Mercedes and Ashe watched her with concern, but Ingrid was walking over to Sylvain. “Would you stop making everything worse. We’re all uncomfortable, there’s no need to,” she gestured to his chest, “display yourself.”

“Ingrid, don’t be jealous,” Sylvain said. “I am a man of the people, you can’t be the only one who gets to see this.”

“Okay,” Annette said, coming from where the support troops were, and saving Sylvain from getting punched in the face, “I think I’ve finally nail—AH!” She flushed red and then spun around. “Why are you naked!?”

“I’m not naked!” Sylvain made an exasperated noise and put his undershirt back on. “Goddess you’re all _prudes_.”

He met Felix’s eyes and winked at him. Felix turned away and finished off his water skin. The water was lukewarm, which wasn’t pleasant, but in comparison to the heat it was a relief.

He heard Sylvain walking up behind him, irritated that he could recognize his heady footsteps. “Does everyone really think anything is in Ailell that is going to come at us other than heatstroke?”

Felix glanced back at him. His undershirt was soaked in sweat and sticking to him, it didn’t really do much more to cover him than before, if anything it only highlighted certain areas. “You should put your armor back on.”

“Felix,” Sylvain said, like his name was a curse. “Come on. You should get it, we are cold men. We like snow. How are you not dying to get out of that.” He emphasized his point by grabbing Felix’s collar and tugging.

Felix slapped his hand away. “Everyone else is taking this seriously,” he said. “Which you _once again_ can’t do.”

“I am taking this heat, very seriously, thank you.”

“Go away,” Felix told him.

Sylvain gave a dramatically loud woe-as-me sigh and trudged off. Felix watched him from the corner of his eye, if he tried to finish the march without his armor, Felix was going to kill him.

Sylvain made his way towards Annette, who was refusing to look at him. “Annette, I put my shirt back on,” Sylvain said, laughing. “Would you calm down?”

“I’m perfectly calm,” Annette said, turning towards him, but looking straight up instead of at him. “I shouldn’t be judged for not expecting someone to get undressed on a battlefield.”

“You should expand your horizons,” Sylvain said. “You never know when you might find romance. Heart rate rises, everyone’s grunting, it sets a mood.”

“Please stop,” Annette said, desperately.

Sylvain laughed again. “Can you do your ice thing for my water?” He held up his water skin high so it was in her eyeline.

Annette tentatively reached for it and when Sylvain pulled it back, teasing, she glared at him. “Sylvain!”

“I needed to see those cute eyes,” Sylvain said. “Wouldn’t do to have you not looking at me if we’re attacked by lava creatures or things made of steam.”

Felix’s brain automatically tried to think of the best strategy if any of those things were here, real, and they needed to engage them. It kept him distracted from the heat at least.

Annette had the water skin in her hand and her tongue stuck out in concentration, which was actually cute, and then after a moment handed it back to Sylvain. “I think that worked?”

“You are the _best,_ ” Sylvain said, and walked away, without drinking any.

Felix regretted finishing off his own water skin and wasn’t sure how Sylvain could actually resist drinking ice cold water, which sounded better than anything else at the moment. He watched as Sylvain walked towards his horse, uncomfortably stamping the ground with its hooves. Felix felt for it, his black hair was soaking up most of the sun, but at least it wasn’t his entire hide.

Then he watched Sylvain pour the water into his hand and cup it towards his horse, murmuring something inaudible. Felix stared at him, while Sylvain kept going, patiently letting it drink from his hand and wiping the water around its face afterwards to keep it cool. He emptied the entire skin that way without taking a drink himself.

Idiot.

Felix did not want to feel even warmer than he already did, so he looked away. There was a feeling clawing at the inside of his chest and he hated it, even if it was a distraction from everything else. He would rather deal with the sweating and the sun stinging against his skin.

Byleth called them to attention and gave Sylvain a look that made him immediately grab his armor, before turning around. “We don’t want to miss our rendezvous,” she said and trudged forward.

Sylvain was still strapping on his armor, fumbling with the sides as everyone started to move out. Felix sighed and went over to help him. “Moron.”

“She scares the shit out of me sometimes, you know?” Sylvain said to him, almost as quiet as a whisper, as Felix helped him get his pauldrons adjusted properly.

“Wish it was all the time so you’d stop undressing in the middle of a war,” Felix muttered, pulling the last strap hard so that Sylvain winced and readjusted it with a dirty look.

“Look, if His Highness would share his secrets for not passing out while still wearing fur in this oven valley, then I would keep it on.”

Felix didn’t respond to that and walked away. He could hear Sylvain trudging in step behind him, uncomfortably breathing hard, his horse clopping next to him.

Felix couldn’t wait to get this over with and was actually relieved for once they weren’t jumping straight into combat.

Which of course meant it came to them.

“I told you so looks really shitty on you!” Sylvain said, before getting on the back of his horse.

“I didn’t say anything,” Felix snapped, trying to figure out where they were being directed, before the dehydrated boar prince would dive forward again and they’d be forced to pick up the pieces.

“I sensed it,” Sylvain said, patting his horse on the neck. “Don’t die without me!” he added as he galloped off.

“Don’t die at all!” Felix snapped at him and took off for his marching orders.

* * *

Felix was pretty sure he should’ve been more… emotional. His father had died. That should’ve caused some sort of human reaction, but he couldn’t seem to feel anything at all. He stayed in his room for two days, made even easier when baskets of meat filled pastries and unsweetened cakes (which was pretty sure were biscuits, no matter how they were labeled) were left at his door. Sometimes they were from Annette, sometimes they were from Ashe and Mercedes, once even Dedue. Annoyingly, his had tasted the best.

After two days he started to get visitors. Everyone was nice… too nice. Annette had been so awkward he’d almost thought about laughing. Byleth had been the easiest and had even ended the conversation with an offer to spar with him when he was up to it.

Dimitri was… infuriatingly apologetic and the mixture of feelings Felix felt at the relief his friend had actually come back and anger that his father had thrown his life away like Glenn ruined the dullness and lack of emotions he was starting to find comforting.

He’d never showed much more than anger in the last few years, so no one was worried if he didn’t seem choked up about it all. No one would know he felt nothing. He left the room on the third day, sparred with the Professor, attended a war meeting where Dimitri acted human and everyone vibrated with relief at it. They were going to be retaking Fhirdiad next and that was a much less insane plan than marching straight towards the Empire.

If he’d felt any emotion, it would have been to say that he’d _told_ them that was the wrong move. Felix felt like he could pass as normal enough to eat in the dining hall, but like the baskets of food, he didn’t eat much before his entire appetite turned.

Once he felt he’d been out long enough that no one would feel compelled to check on him (or apologize again), he went back to his room. He was sitting on the bed, staring at a chip in the wall, trying to decide if that had always been there or if it was the smallest damage from when the monastery had been invaded, when there was a knock on the door.

Felix stared at it, but couldn’t drum up the effort to tell whoever it was to get lost. The door knob turned and he hoped to the Goddess it wasn’t Dimitri coming by to apologize again.

It was Sylvain, who looked surprised. “You must be out of it if you didn’t lock the door,” he said. “I swear you’d lock your tent if there was an option.”

Felix stared at him.

Sylvain sighed and closed the door behind him and walked around the room a bit. “Saw you sparring with the Professor earlier.”

When Felix didn’t respond, Sylvain kept going, wandering around the room and glancing at different pieces of clothing, weapons, and books that Felix had spread out. “I mean it’s good to get back to normal. Or as normal as anything can be in this war.”He sniffed some of the leftovers from one of the baskets and nodded appreciatively. “Sometimes I feel bad that my favorite thing about Dedue not being dead is that he’s back in the kitchen again.”

Sylvain looked at Felix, as if waiting for a reaction. When he didn’t get one, he sighed and then sat on the bed next to Felix. “Hey.”

“I’m fine,” Felix said, not looking at him. “I feel… fine.”

Sylvain couldn’t sit like a normal person, so he stretched out and leaned back on his hands, one of which was dangerously close to Felix’s lower back. “Remember when Glenn beat you in that sword match, the one you practiced months for?”

Felix glanced back at him, frowning.

“You were sobbing,” Sylvain said. “Like snot coming out of your nose, frustrated emotional tears. You didn’t want anyone to see it either, because people had started to be shitty about you being so soft,” he eyed Felix sideways, gauging his reaction, and then kept going, “but you cried it out and felt your feelings and like always came running to me to do it.”

“I was _seven_ ,” Felix said, starting to feel something… annoyed.

“I never told anyone,” Sylvain said and then met his eyes, unblinking. “Won’t tell anyone now if you need to get it out either.”

“I don’t need to cry on your shoulder, Sylvain,” Felix said. He shifted and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s war. I can … I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t… there when Glenn died,” Sylvain said. “I always wondered who you cried on after it happened. But now I’m wondering if you cried at all.”

Felix looked away from him, shifting his jaw and breathing out hard through his nose.

“Did you ever get to cry for Glenn?” Sylvain asked, quietly. The hand behind Felix, tapped on the bed, like it was waiting.

“It wouldn’t have helped anything,” Felix said, his voice sounded rough to his own ears. Weak.

“Might’ve helped you,” Sylvain said. Then the hand behind Felix came up and rested on his shoulder, fingers glancing softly against Felix’s neck with the move and Sylvain was so close to having his entire arm around him that it was painful. “It’s just me, Felix. No one else here.”

“I’m fine,” Felix said again, quieter so he couldn’t hear the crack.

“Felix,” Sylvain said again. He didn’t say anything else, he just squeezed Felix’s shoulder and draped his arm around him, drawing him in slowly. It would have been easy to shrug him off, easy to jump up, easy to move away or tell him to stop.

Felix felt the resistances start to crumble. “Don’t,” he said, sounding even weaker to his own ears.

“Felix.” Sylvain was looking at him, seriously, in a way he never did. “It’s okay. It’s just me,” he said again. “It’s me.”

Sylvain didn’t really get what those words meant and those feelings on top of everything else sent a sharp pain through Felix’s chest that let the everything else tumble out. His eyes stung and he tried moving away, but Sylvain pulled him, so his head was pressed into his chest, hidden from everything else. It was a familiar position, even if they were so much older and it had been so long but it was the last crack in the armor he’d built up over the years.

The tears flooded out like they wouldn’t stop and Felix hated every second of it. He hated that Glenn left a hole so big that it sucked everyone he cared about into its depths. He hated that his father had died in the most useless way possible. He hated that his father was probably _happy_ to die like that… like Glenn. And most of all Felix hated that he was happy that it had worked. He’d gotten one thing back from the depth of that void where he’d lost everything else and he hated himself for still caring.

Sylvain said nothing, only let him be an emotional wreck, rubbing his back and holding him like he used to when they were kids. Felix hated him too.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Sylvain murmured, which made Felix realize he’d said it out loud.

Felix tried to push out of his arms, but Sylvain only held him tighter, and when Felix hit him, it wasn’t a punch, it was a dull weak thud with a limp fist. Sylvain’s hand slid up Felix’s back until it was on his neck and then on the back of his head, stroking softly and making Felix cry harder.

It felt like an eternity had passed when he was done. Felix had gone from feeling nothing to feeling like nothing. He was empty of anything inside and hollow with exhaustion from his pathetic display. Sylvain was still stroking his hair. Felix shut his eyes tightly and fisted Sylvain’s vest, willing himself to disappear and not have to face any of this.

“You need a handkerchief or is snotting up my shirt good enough revenge?” Sylvain asked. His voice was light, tentative, testing the air.

Felix took a shuddering breath and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sylvain said, pulling out a handkerchief anyway and holding it in the small space between their torsos so Felix could see it. “Its making me feel nostalgic. I always felt useful when you were upset. Damn, that makes me sound like a dick when I say it out loud.”

Felix wasn’t expecting to laugh, it was choked and mangled, and he covered it with the handkerchief, finally moving his head out from Sylvain’s chest. Sylvain was smiling at him, something about it pained around the edges. It made Felix want to cry again so he wiped his face with the cloth and looked away.

Sylvain was rubbing his back again. Felix felt exhaustion sweep through him, it felt like the time he’d gotten knocked out by a spell that had caught him off guard. Impossible to resist. “‘m tired,” Felix managed.

“Okay,” Sylvain said, he was still rubbing Felix’s back. “You want me to go?”

It was painful to look at him, so Felix didn’t, but shook his head no.

“Okay,” Sylvain said, again, softer than before. He kicked off his boots and scooted down the small, really only made for one person bed, and gently pulled Felix down with him. Felix still couldn’t look at him, but he was prone next to Sylvain and so close that it was hard not to feel that heat radiating off him. “Just get some sleep, Felix,” Sylvain said. “You can go back to being your cranky self in the morning.”

Felix wanted to at least say thank you, but he couldn’t get the words out. Instead he gave in and rested his head on Sylvain’s outstretched arm and closed his eyes, giving in to the exhaustion.

When he woke up, Sylvain was asleep, and Felix was pressed into his side in a way that he really didn’t want to be (because he really _did_ want to be). He stared at the underside of Sylvain’s jaw, moving with every sleep filled breath and felt… too much.

Felix didn’t care. He didn’t want to lose anyone else. If it was this and only this, then that’s what it was and it was more than he expected. He closed his eyes again, not caring if he slept or not.

* * *

Sylvain flopped down onto Felix’s bed. He smelled like alcohol. “I can’t believe we won.”

“Did you want to lose?” Felix asked him. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel relieved that they’d won. Dimitri was King, Fódlan was secure and united, and there was going to peace instead of the endless violence that had filled his life.

He understood the violence. He wasn’t sure he’d get this new thing. He couldn’t even remember what it felt like to not be constantly fighting or preparing for the next fight.

“No, but,” Sylvain yawned, stretched out and then smiled, sleepily at Felix. “There were so many times like it felt like we couldn’t face the odds. And then we did.”

“How drunk are you? Felix asked.

“Enough to be too tired to walk to my room,” Sylvain said, stretching out on the bed. His jacket was unbuttoned and his shirt hiked up with the move, showing a sliver of his stomach.

“Your room is two doors away,” Felix pointed out.

Sylvain seemed unbothered by it and yawned. “Why weren’t you celebrating, cranky?”

The celebration had been long, loud, and filled with drinking, singing, and food. Felix hadn’t hated it, but he also couldn’t stand to be in large crowds like that expected to be cheerful and smiling the entire time like it was a performance for more than an hour.

“I was there,” Felix said. “You were busy drinking with…” He couldn’t think of her name or an apt description for the black haired girl that was sitting in Sylvain’s lap, feeding him wine and slobbering all over his face. “The new one.”

“Melanie,” Sylvain said stretching out every syllable and grinning, there was something really disgusting about that grin.“I love her.”

The lack of sincerity was familiar, even if Sylvain seemed to think he was making a true declaration in his inebriated state. Felix was too used to it to be bothered.

Although usually he wasn’t hearing it on his bed, with Sylvain scratching the strip of bare skin on his stomach, making his shirt ruck up higher.

“Then why are you here?” Felix asked.

Sylvain shrugged and gave him a grin that was usually reserved for his next conquest. “Spending time with my friend, is that so bad?”

“It is when you smell like whiskey,” Felix said, but there was no heat to it. Sylvain was lounged like a cat and looked actually happy, instead of putting on a performance. There were good things about the war ending.

“I’m tired of chasing girls,” Sylvain said, “Maybe I’ll marry Ingrid.” Before Felix could respond to that, he added, “Or Mercedes. I like her. Or Annette… nah that’s weird. Can I marry Dedue for his cooking? No, he’ll wanna marry Dimitri.”

Felix felt his eye twitching. “You’re insane.” And then, felt compelled to add due to Sylvain’s clear level of inebriation, “don’t throw up in here.”

“I would never,” Sylvain said seriously and then laughed, cheer flooding his face again. He smiled brightly at Felix. “You wanna marry me, Felix?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Felix said, and looked away from him. He always managed to forget why he hated when Sylvain got drunk. No one would have suspected that Sylvain had a filter normally, but at least he didn’t say things that crawled under Felix’s skin most of the time when he was sober.

“Fine,” Sylvain sad with a sigh, put out, but then quickly recovered. “I’ll marry Ashe. Oh wait, no I should marry Dorothea.” He crinkled his nose and directed his next question at the ceiling. “Why didn’t I say her first? Damn.”

“I promise I won’t tell her,” Felix said, dryly.

“Thank you so much,” Sylvain said, completely sincere, and threw his arms around Felix’s waist.

Felix’s heart leapt into his throat and he tried shoving back, but even drunk Sylvain had a strong grip. He brought his hands to where Sylvain’s arms were crossed over him, but couldn’t bring himself to actually break the grip, and instead gave in and put his hands on Sylvain’s forearms. It wasn’t like he’d remember this.

“We’ll still be friends, right?” Sylvain asked, his head pressed into Felix’s lower back.

“When?” Felix asked. “When you sober up or when you go home?”

“Home,” Sylvain said, glumly. “We’ll still visit like we used to and go throw crabapples at each other?”

“Sure,” Felix said, to placate him. Happy drunk Sylvain was tolerable, throwing a tantrum sulky drunk Sylvain was unbearable.

“Man, it’s gonna suck not seeing everyone all the time,” Sylvain said. “Like before… when we had to go fight the Empire by ourselves and everyone thought Dimitri and the Professor were dead, that sucked.”

“Yeah,” Felix said, remembering how often he took any excuse to take troops away from Fraldarius territory so he didn’t have to fight next to his father. It felt so pointless now.

“Those crabapples were nasty,” Sylvain said, clearly having a separate conversation with himself that Felix wasn’t getting all of. “I wonder if that tree’s still there.”

“It is,” Felix said. He’d checked when they’d retaken the capital. It had been one of the first things he’d done.

“Can I still throw them at Dimitri now that he’s King?” Sylvain asked.

Felix fought a smile at the image. “Maybe.”

“Remember when we spent hours in that grove throwing them at each other?” Sylvain asked. “That time my arm was broken, cos Miklan threw my horse off course and cut my saddle.”

“I don’t remember it being hours,” Felix said, reminding himself unfortunately Miklan couldn’t die twice.

“Felt like it,” Sylvain said. “I did _not_ wanna leave. We were all having so much fun. I don’t feel like we did that again, you know?”

Felix saw Sylvain’s hands move and assumed he was finally going to let go, but instead he reached out and grabbed Felix’s hands, holding them in his own. “You’re… drunk,” Felix said.

“Yeah, I know,” Sylvain said. “But, let me finish.”

“Fine.”

“So, I was pretty sure he was gonna come back and at least threaten me again — usual ‘I’ll make sure no one finds your bones, princess, if you tell anyone’ bullshit. The Margrave was suspicious that time, and I did not want to go to my room.”

“You slept in our room,” Felix said, remembering. They’d almost convinced Dimitri to come too, but then Sylvain had made another comment about his girlfriend and he’d huffed off for the rest of the night.

It was incredibly strange to think of who that was now, but everything the past few years had been strange.

“Glenn’s feet smelled so rank,” Sylvain said, sounding so disgusted at the memory that Felix snorted.

“Yeah, they always did.” It felt… odd to think of Glenn like that, a good memory, it felt… nice. There was no vice grip on Felix’s stomach when he let himself remember. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened, if it ever had.

“You didn’t make me sleep head to foot, so I don’t know what your feet smelled like,” Sylvain said. He squeezed Felix’s hands. “I never said thanks for letting me stay.”

“Why…” Felix swallowed around the tightness in his throat. “Why thank me? We used to do it all the time.”

“Yeah, but,” Sylvain said. “That was different. I needed to hide. The other times were because we were bored and wanted to stay up late talking shit.” Sylvain’s forehead rested against Felix’s lower back. “Thanks for letting me hide.”

Felix closed his eyes. Now he got what the rambling trip down memory lane was actually about. “You need to hide, don’t you?”

Sylvain breathed out and it ruffled the back of Felix’s shirt. “Melanie has a boyfriend and he is _huge_.”

“Did you ask Dimitri first?” Felix asked, knowing the answer. It wasn’t a drunken stumble set on making his way to Felix…even if he’d let himself think that for a few minutes.

“I couldn’t find Dimitri, he’s probably Kinging or fucking the Professor. I hope he’s doing the second thing, it’s a party.” He paused. “Oh wait, maybe he’s doing the other thing. That means I _can_ marry Dedue.”

Felix stared at the ceiling, ignoring the incoherent rambling. “Fine.”

Sylvain finally loosened his grip on Felix, and scooted up the bed so that Felix could turn to look at him. His arms were still slung over Felix’s thighs, hands a warm weight there, and he grinned up at him. “Really?”

“It’d be pretty stupid for you to die right after we won,” Felix said.

“We die together,” Sylvain reminded him, like Felix could forget. “It doesn’t expire, because the war is over. Now it’s just… us being old and throwing crabapples at each other until we break our hips.”

Felix couldn’t help laughing at the mental image.

“I missed your laugh,” Sylvain said, smiling and warming up Felix’s insides. “You all got so… dour, I felt like I had to be fun for everyone.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Felix murmured.

“I am very fun,” Sylvain said. “Sometimes too much fun.”

“Leave off the last word,” Felix suggested.

Sylvain laughed and rolled backwards, stretching out on the bed again. “Were the beds bigger when we were kids or were we smaller?”

“Both,” Felix said, bring his palms up and down his thighs to rub the tension out of both of them.

Sylvain put his hands behind his head on the pillow and smiled lazily at Felix. “I’m glad I couldn’t find Dimitri.”

“Why?” Felix asked, not trusting the sound of his own voice.

“Because you’re so much smaller and I’d probably fit one leg on his bed at this point.”

Felix sighed, almost relieved and patted Sylvain’s forehead before standing up. “Sleep it off.”

“Where are you going?” Sylvain asked, frowning.

“Where you do think?” Felix replied.

Sylvain let out a tortured groan. “ _Now_? We won, why do you need to train?”

“Because swords don’t talk,” Felix said. Weapons and training were reliable and even if the war was over, that didn’t mean the fighting was. There was always something to fight. At least he could count on that.

Sylvain looked at him in his drunken haze, trying to decipher it. “I can not talk.”

Felix raised an eyebrow at him.

Sylvain sighed and closed his eyes. “Fine, abandon me. Tell Melanie I loved her when I’m dead.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Do you want me to stay?”

Sylvain shook his head and opened his eyes, looking up at Felix. “Nah, go do your stabbing exercise. Have fun.”

Felix stared at him, wondering if it he was imagining the forced cheer making its way back. “Are you sure?”

“I won’t burden you more than I already have,” Sylvain said, yawning.

“You’re n—” Felix started, but then realized what he was going to say and nodded, before turning and pushing out the door, letting Sylvain sleep it off.

* * *

Felix stared up at the tree in the grove. He’d remembered it being bigger and was surprised every time he came out here that it wasn’t. The jagged knife marks they’d left on the tree were still there. Ingrid’s, of course, looked the cleanest, even if she hated coming out here. Felix brushed his fingers against each mark, trying to remember the day they left them and what that was like.

He was so focused on trying to remember, he didn’t hear Sylvain until his familiar footsteps thudded into the grass.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, when Felix turned around he had a basket filled with food, but didn’t actually seem to have anything to eat it with or a blanket.

“It’s fine,” Felix said. “It was your idea.”

“Yes it was!” Sylvain said, giving himself credit for it. He smiled at Felix and then came towards him, pulling him backwards into an embrace and rested his head on Felix’s shoulder. “Do you think they still taste gross?”

“Yes,” Felix said, still unfamiliar with Sylvain’s casual intimacy that wasn’t a way for the universe to torture him. “That’s why they’re not called apples.”

Sylvain snorted and then pressed his nose into Felix’s cheekbone. “What about alcohol? Could we distill them?”

“Maybe,” Felix answered. “That would still taste disgusting.”

“If you’re drunk enough, nothing tastes disgusting,” Sylvain said, grinning against Felix’s jaw.

Felix turned his head, angling his mouth so that it met up with Sylvain’s. Not because the moment was nice, but because it got him to shut up. Sylvain pulled Felix back against his chest even more tightly and kissed him back, leisurely and easy.

There was a noise behind them that turned into Dimitri’s annoyed sigh. “Why did you invite me if you were planning on defiling the grove?”

Sylvain turned his head around to look back at Dimitri, without releasing Felix from his grip. “I distinctly remember saying if you were late that was exactly what I planned on doing.”

“I have a kingdom to run,” Dimitri said, when Felix glanced back at him too, he at least had a blanket, but it seemed like they were going to be eating with their hands.

“This is in your kingdom,” Sylvain retorted, dropping his arms from Felix to put his hands on his own hips.

The way they both looked at each other, Dimitri flustered and annoyed, Sylvain smugly cheerful, made Felix feel like he was looking at them both, before anything had changed.

“I _apologize_ for being late,” Dimitri said in what did not at all sound like an apology, and made Felix cough a laugh into his hand.

Sylvain turned to glare at him before turning back to Dimitri. “You’re the one that had the packed schedule we had to make time for.”

“Yes, well can we get on with it then?” Dimitri asked and started to roll out the blanket. “Or was your plan to harass me the entire time.”

Sylvain looked contemplative, but then decided to help Dimitri put out the blanket, calling a truce. Felix sat down like a normal person, Dimitri looked a little too proper on a blanket, and Sylvain had one leg slung over the entire length of the blanket and another folded under him.

“Hey, Dimitri,” Sylvain said, grinning, “I bet you could kill at the crabapple eating contest now.”

Dimitri looked up from the piece of bread he’d been putting meat and cheese on. “Just because I can’t taste anything, doesn’t mean I can’t _remember_ how vile it tasted.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Sylvain said. “Memories.”

Dimitri shook his head, but he was smiling. It was quiet, and the air was cool but not frigid. Almost idyllic if Felix ever felt like being sappy. They ate in mostly comfortable silence, or at least Felix did, while Sylvain peppered remarks and Dimitri pretended he didn't think they were funny. Felix watched the both of them without saying anything, just observing their faces and reactions. Sylvain put one hand over his, midway through one of the conversations, casually grabbing at him, more like how he used to than how he did now. Clumsy and warm.

Sylvain was talking about his favorite memories of them doing stupid thing around the castle, particularly highlighting the times they’d been able to convince Ingrid or Glenn to participate and then specifically the grove.

“Why didn’t we ever invite Glenn here?” Dimitri asked. Then he seemed to realize what he’d said and glanced at Felix, as if he was about to apologize for bringing him up.

“Because he was a dick,” Felix said.

Sylvain choked on a laugh hard enough that he had to let go of Felix’s hand to bang his chest and Dimitri’s eyebrows practically flew off his head.

Felix scoffed. “Glenn would have lorded over us and taken all the crabapples before we could even throw them.”

Dimitri frowned, as if that didn’t fit into his perfect memory of Felix’s sarcastic, biting, funny older brother. Except then he said, “You’re right and he would’ve made us eat _more_ of them if we’d lost the contest.”

“A competition with Glenn?” Sylvain threw his hands up. “He was such a sore loser.”

“When did he lose?” Felix asked and then couldn’t help laughing, which set off Dimitri and Sylvain too, until they were all remembering and not feeling the sweeping settling of grief that always seemed to go after it.

After a minute of that, Sylvain, still laughing, stood up and walked over to the tree, he pulled one of the crabapples off and looked at Dimitri.

“I told you I’m not eating that,” Dimitri said.

Sylvain grinned and chucked it at him, smacking him right in the shoulder. Dimitri did not catch it, taken off guard that even Sylvain would be this immature, but Felix wasn’t stupid and got to his feet, before Sylvain threw the next one at him, and caught it.

“Nice!” Sylvain said.

The King of the United Lands of Fódlan, drew himself up to full height, taking the crabapple that had hit him in shoulder and then tossed it back at Sylvain so hard it almost went through him.

“Crests are cheating!” Sylvain said, still laughing.

It took them less than five minutes to turn into children again, throwing them at each other and trying to dodge, laughing when they missed or when they hit, and cheering when someone was able to catch it.

Sylvain grinned at Felix, after he caught one thrown at him, and that knot somewhere deep in Felix’s chest finally felt like it unraveled.

**Author's Note:**

> @waffle_fancy on twitter where i scream about fe3h


End file.
